


Medic

by Whisper132



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-16
Updated: 2007-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirihara has some wounds that need tending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medic

"Stop it, that hurts!" Kirihara pulled his leg away from the antiseptic wipe that Marui was swiping over the gash just under his kneecap.

"It'll get infected and your knee'll fall off." Marui grabbed the leg back and smacked it with the wipe. "If you would've been serious from the start, this wouldn't have happened."

Kirihara grinned, even as the alcohol stung. "You were worried about me."

"Everyone was worried about you. You were bleeding and you crashed into the fence so hard you nearly busted through it." Marui usually acted like he was too cool to worry about anyone else, but his blush and the way his hand shook as he cleaned the blood off Kirihara, one square inch at a time, was giving him away today – in front of everyone in the junior tennis world.

Akaya wanted to do sentimental things, too, like hold hands and kiss Bunta and curl around him so those bastards over at the gaijin cheater school knew that Akaya was coming for them just as soon as he was able to walk without the air stinging his cuts. He was going to knock out the bitch who smashed the ball into Bunta's foot – the ref didn't call it, but Akaya saw it and Yukimura and Sanada saw it, so there could be no forgiveness. If fukubuchou didn't Furinkazan his opponent into the next life, Kirihara would never speak to him again or tell him where the seven pair of underwear and three rolls of grip tape Niou-senpai stole were being hidden.

"You're both still here?" Yukimura looked over Marui's shoulder and grimaced at Akaya's wounds. "Take him to the hospital already. Renji and Niou are almost done with their match; it won't take long for Sanada to finish cleaning up." Yukimura pushed his headband up and turned back to the courts. "And don't think this is getting you out of the Seigaku match, Akaya. We expect you to be ready to play tomorrow." He turned back. "And I believe we've already discussed what's expected of you, Bunta."

Marui didn't turn around, so Yukimura couldn't see him wince before he let out an airy, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Bunta sighed and pocketed the bloody alcohol wipe. "Come on, let's go." He held his hand out and Akaya took it, even though he could stand just fine. Together, they walked toward the bus stop.

"You're limping," Kirihara said, pointing to Marui's left foot, the one the gaijin hit with the ball. "Did he break your toe or something?" If one bone was broken in Bunta's wonderful, soft, flushing body, Akaya was turning around and taking someone out with his racquet.

"And you're bleeding. Big deal. Let's go." Marui tugged at Kirihara's still bleeding arm. "Seiichi's probably counting the minutes it takes for us to get you bandaged and back on the court."

They rode the bus in silence while Marui curled up in his window seat and Kirihara pressed Bunta's handkerchief to his arm because one of the spots where the fence stabbed him refused to stop bleeding. His mom was going to birth a cow when she got the medical bill. Maybe he should call her and let her know, and maybe call Bunta's mom since Marui's foot was likely broken and he probably didn't plan on saying anything until Akaya was taken care of, nationals were over, and he could sneak off to the doctor by himself and 'not worry anyone.' Stupid Bunta.

Kirihara did manage to call his mom before the bus arrived at the hospital, and she said she'd call the Marui house and explain that Marui might be late coming home because he was helping Akaya and, if it were too late, Bunta-kun was welcome to stay over for the night. Akaya planned to arrive 'too late' so Bunta could snuggle away his pain.

He could really use some painkillers, maybe some ice. He settled for leaning on Bunta's bony shoulder until the bus pulled up to the local hospital.

As soon as they walked into the lobby, a nurse descended, pushing Kirihara into a wheelchair and directing Marui into an exam room. Yukimura must've called ahead and arranged things. He probably asked that Marui be seen by a young, male doctor who was better looking than Akaya would ever be, particularly if puberty didn't decide to cut his acne-plagued chin a break soon. Buchou probably _wanted_ Marui to get manhandled by an older guy with a good salary who could support his cake habits.

"We can be seen together if you want," Kirihara told the nurse wheeling him to the other side of the hospital. "We're good friends and-"

"It's to protect your confidentiality," the nurse said, voice terse and nasal like this was the fifth time Kirihara'd asked and not the first. The bitter old hag was probably jealous because Kirihara had someone and she was stuck with only her scraggly cats to keep her warm at night.

That doctor had better not be touching the sensitive spot in the arch of Marui's right foot. That was Kirihara's spot. Well, one of them. Hopefully Bunta didn't have to wear the hospital gown; Akaya didn't want him to have to explain why there was a bitemark on his ass. Marui would come up with some lame excuse, like a dog bit him or he was horsing around with some guys from the team and oops, someone's face hit his ass at high velocity and left a mark.

"Well, you're quite the mess, aren't you?" An old woman with a stethoscope came into Kirihara's exam room and closed the door. "Give me a few to finish up with another patient and I'll be right with you, hm?" She handed him a hospital robe. "Put this on and reopen the door when you're done so the nurse can take some information from you." She chuckled and left.

The next half hour was an embarrassing blur of hiding his erection, glaring at the nice old lady, and wondering if Bunta was okay or if Kirihara needed to take a moment – one of the many the old woman gave to him to 'take care of things' – and find him and smack down the obviously pervy male doctor who was caressing Bunta's feet in Akaya's special place.

When the old woman was done with Akaya's four stitches – that gash in his arm was a lot deeper and longer than he thought – and a number of Band-Aids, Marui was sitting in the waiting room, leg in an air cast.

"Yo." He saluted and put away his phone. "Seiichi just called, said Sanada's almost done so we need to hurry if we want to ride home with the team."

"You hurt your foot." Kirihara glared at the cast.

"I bruised the bone a little. The cast is just to keep it safe while I sleep tonight so I can play tomorrow and not screw myself over. I promised Seiichi I'd pull out if it was serious but it's not so we're fine. Nice stitches." Marui pointed to the patch of gauze on Kirihara's arm.

Akaya helped Bunta up and gave him a bruised shoulder to lean on as they hobbled out of the hospital. "Did they put you in the gown?"

"Yeah. And I got to explain how I got a bite on my ass. You could've told me you left a mark."

Kirihara's hand automatically traveled down to slide his fingers over his precious signature. "Didn't think it was that important. What'd you tell him? Did he touch it? Did he touch you anywhere else?"

"I told him my idiot boyfriend bit me on the ass because he's not too smart and thought ass biting was sexy. He told me to give you this." Marui held out a small paper bag, the same kind Kirihara got at the pharmacy when he picked up his painkillers.

Kirihara peered inside the bag. There was a pamphlet about venereal disease, one about domestic abuse, and a strip of five condoms. Score.

"I'm supposed to rest, so forget it. Anyway, Yukimura said we're not allowed to during nationals in case you do something dumb, like break my leg because you've been reading weird books again." Marui paid their way on the bus and curled up in the window seat again. Akaya grabbed his arm and snuggled into it.

"I've got high blood pressure so I need to do daily relaxation or I might explode." Kirihara tilted his hips into Marui's leg to better illustrate his eruptive potential. "Doctor's orders."

Marui rolled his eyes and shoved Kirihara away. "Save it, we're on a bus. In public. And then we're going to be on a bus with the team."

Akaya tucked his very special paper bag into his jersey pocket and slumped down in his seat. When they got to his place, Bunta would probably want to sleep or something dumb like that. Why would they sleep at Akaya's place, in his room, when they could nap now and snuggle later? And Marui called himself a tensai.

An arm slid behind Kirihara's shoulders, pulling him toward Marui. "Get some sleep; I'll wake you up when we get to our stop." Fingers slid through Akaya's curls. "If you're good, maybe I'll make breakfast."

Kirihara slid one eye open and looked at the bottom of Marui's chin. "Naked?"

"You gonna bite my ass again?"

Akaya licked his lips. "You want me to?"

A hand shoved Kirihara's head down to Marui's shoulder. "Shut up and go to sleep."

Kirihara fell asleep still curled around Marui's arm. When he woke up, he was in his bed at home and Marui was behind him, hair everywhere, air cast digging into Akaya's leg and leaving a long, red mark. It was only fair, Kirihara decided while pulling a blanket over both of them. He could always tell the team that he got the welt from the side of the bed while he and Marui made use of the hospital's parting gift. Marui would hit him for it, but it would be worth seeing the look on fukubuchou's face when he heard Kirihara was getting some and he wasn't.

Marui grumbled and scooted closer, pressing tight against Akaya's back, looping an arm around his waist. "Stop laughing and go to sleep," he mumbled into Kirihara's neck.

Sighing, Akaya relaxed into his senpai's hold and drifted off again, still wondering if he was getting naked breakfast or if Bunta was going to be prissy and save it for after nationals, when they could slide against one another and listen to their gold medals clank in the silence of the utility shed.


End file.
